


Time and a place

by Janice_Lester



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-05-29
Updated: 2011-05-29
Packaged: 2017-11-27 04:56:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/658230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Janice_Lester/pseuds/Janice_Lester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel courts Sam with gifts. Sam courts Gabriel by chasing him down with pointy sticks, just like old times.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Time and a place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [solarbaby614](https://archiveofourown.org/users/solarbaby614/gifts).



> Written for [](http://solarbaby614.livejournal.com/profile)[**solarbaby614**](http://solarbaby614.livejournal.com/), who [wanted 'pampering'](http://solarbaby614.livejournal.com/88787.html?thread=333011#t333011) for round four of the Five Acts Meme. Beta'd by [](http://ellethill.livejournal.com/profile)[ellethill](http://ellethill.livejournal.com/). **Continuity/Spoilers:** Vague season five setting. If you know who Gabriel is, you're probably fine.

Gabriel courts Sam with a slew of little luxuries, the kinds of stuff two guys living out of rucksacks, perpetually on the road, rarely get to indulge in. He makes fresh, out of season fruits appear magically in their motel rooms. And soda you can’t normally get outside of Texas (of course, for an archangel it’s a short trip to Texas from absolutely anywhere). He arranges random deliveries of fancy soft toilet paper no motel ever stocks. And there are other things, too. Bigger things. Sam’s laptop magically gets a RAM upgrade overnight, without having left his bag. The Winchester duo are somehow inexplicably upgraded at no extra charge to the best room in the Pinewoods Inn, complete with kitchen facilities and bathtub and five kinds of bubble bath. Sam gets a bright red card from a “secret admirer” on Valentine’s Day, and a huge bunch of exotic flowers is delivered on his birthday. (The card generates much mockery, as intended. The flowers make Dean sneeze, also as intended.) Gabriel courts Sam by appearing as the guy who sells him the morning paper and wishes him a nice day, by winking at him from out of billboards featuring underwear-clad supermodels in high-heeled shoes, and by leaving him occasional brief voicemails informing him of various ways in which he is wonderful. Once, he stops by Sam’s dreams in order to turn a distressing nightmare about high school jocks with grudges and scythes into a hilarious farce involving the jocks, a quantity of chicken fat, and some carnivorous Post-It Notes.

Sam courts Gabriel by hunting him down and chasing him with sharp sticks, just like old times. Gabriel completely gets the joke and is the first to laugh. And, uh, the only one to laugh, but he’s sure Sam is laughing on the inside. Even as he’s pinning Gabriel against a handy brick wall with his enormous, muscular body.

“What the hell, man? Are you stalking me now?”

“Just trying to brighten up your dreary days, dearest. Is that a crime?”

“Only when you—wait, ‘dearest’?” His nostrils flare, his eyes narrow. It’s cute. “Are you—you can’t be— _are you hitting on me or something?_ ”

“Oh, thank Daddy, the fool finally gets it!”

“What makes you think I’d be interested?”

“Well, I _am_ inexpressibly, superbly, awesomely wonderful. And I have an infamous sense of humour. You know, just for starters.”

Sam snorts. “Even supposing I accept all that—not saying I do—what makes you think I have any interest in men, that way?”

Gabriel employs a little Grace to free the arm Sam has hold of so he can scratch at a tiny itch behind his ear. “Two things, really. I happened to spot you a couple months back, on your knees for some dude in an alley behind a dance club, jerking off furiously. You know, while I just happened to be randomly passing by, minding my own business. Second, your boner is digging into my hip.”

“That’s my gun, in my pocket,” Sam growls, pulling his hips guiltily back while still attempting to keep Gabriel pinned.

“No, it isn’t. You’re just happy to see me, Samosa.” He waggles his eyebrows in that endearingly suggestive way he practices in the mirror sometimes.

Sam frowns, and Gabriel feels guilty for the joking.

Well, a little.

“It’s all right, Sam, it’s great, I love you too, let’s elope!”

“You killed my brother,” Sam complains. “A bunch of times.”

Why must he keep focusing on the wrong things? “Yes, but not _permanently!_ He’s all right now, isn’t he? Back to normal? Brooding, making eyes at my little brother, and looking for supernatural creatures to shoot?”

Sam, of course, has to concede that. He’s not an unreasonable sort, really. You know, for a human. He even steps back and lets Gabriel go. “So you want us to, like, date or something?”

Gabriel nods. It’s as suitable a euphemism for what he wants as any other he can think up in this dreary dying language.

“I’ll consider it,” Sam says. “But I’d like some information from you. How have you been following me around? I mean, aren’t we supposed to be invisible to angel-radar?”

“Oh, that?” Gabriel waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve been around long enough to know the tricks. I can follow a car with the best of ‘em. I can trace your fake names through all the motels of North America, rather like that creep did in _Lolita_.” He’d been around when that was published of course. Such fuss! So many dicks virtually volunteering to be tricked! Good times, good times. “There are even a few demons and pagan gods and such who owe me favours. You guys aren’t hard to track down, if only one can think outside the rigid box of an angelic education.” At this point, it seems appropriate to bow very low and disappear off to parts far, far away (or, you know, just around the corner), before Sam can go back on his word that he’ll think about it.

***

Dean, Gabriel observes while loitering invisibly in the vicinity of a certain Chevrolet Impala, is not at all pleased to be told they have to stop accepting the gifts from Sam’s admirer.

“But why?” Dean demands. “Unless she’s evil, whoever she is? Do you know who it is? Is she evil? Is she hot?”

Sam throws up his hands in defeat. “Fine. It’s the Trickster, okay? Apparently he wants my svelte body or something.”

Dean snorts incredulously. “You’re his type, really? Did you tell him you like pussy?”

“The subject didn’t come up. Besides, would _you_ say that to the Trickster? You’d probably wind up with a pussy of your very own.”

Dean chooses this moment to adjust himself in his jeans, as though to make sure all the essentials are still in there.

Gabriel has to fight the urge to slap his thigh and laugh like a maniac. Because that isn’t at all the sort of thing he’d do—because it never would have occurred to him. But now that it’s been suggested, his fingers are _itching_ to make it happen. Sam, however, probably wouldn’t approve of Gabriel turning his brother into a woman for no good reason, so resist he must.

_Oh, Sam. The things I sacrifice for you._

“Hey, you think he could turn _himself_ into a hot chick? Then you two could date, and I could keep enjoying all the free gifts.”

“I don’t think angels’ vessels work that way. He could go get himself a new one, maybe? I got the impression they were kinda rare. Anyway, I’m used to him the way he is.”

“Yeah, but we don’t date dudes, Sammy.”

“ _We_ don’t, no.”

There’s a spectacularly uncomfortable silence that makes Gabriel want to shriek with laughter.

Dean rubs the back of his neck. “Uh, anything you want to tell me, Sammy?”

“You’ll go all weird on me.”

“I won’t. Well, okay, I’ll _try_ not to.”

Sam lets out his breath in a huff, sucks in some more air. “I mainly like pussy, as you so charmingly put it. But, maybe thirty percent of the time? Dick is where it’s at for me. Deal with it.”

Dean Winchester speechless is so hilarious a sight that Gabriel actually has to take the drastic step of rendering himself inaudible as well as invisible because this time he simply cannot hold back the laughter.

***

It’s maybe two weeks later, when Gabriel is happily sunning himself on his favourite sun-soaked Pacific isle watching a five-year-old laugh as, inexplicably, every punch his bully tries to land rebounds on the bully, that Sam calls. Gabriel hears the prayer, tight and narrow, for his ears only. Oh, well. The bully will just have to stay incapable of inflicting violence that doesn’t rebound until Gabriel can get back here. And he doesn’t think it’s much of a priority. So he leaves a generous tip for the gorgeous plump local woman who brought him his drink, stuffs his sunhat in his pocket, and disappears off to the wilds of east Kansas.

Sam Winchester is standing alone in the middle of the world’s dreariest third-rate motel room, covered in mud, blood, ash, and sundry other substances Gabriel suspects he would do better not to identify. He looks shattered, exhausted, wrecked.

“Now would be a really good time for all your special gifts and pampering and _niceness_ ,” he says.

Gabriel smiles, clicks his fingers, and leaves Sam clean, smelling delicately of rose petals, and dressed in a fetching set of royal blue silk pyjamas just the right size and length for his broad, tall frame. “A good start,” he decides.

He’s completely stunned when Sam grabs him by the scruff of the neck and kisses him, hard at first and then softer, more friendly, until it’s just the flutter of lips against lips, and then nothing but a lingering tingle. “Yeah,” Sam squeaks. He looks down, clears his throat. “Yeah,” he repeats, at his usual pitch. “Yeah, that could work. But there would be conditions.”

“Conditions,” Gabriel repeats, having not yet quite managed to unmelt his mind.

“I need to be able to trust you. So no more tricks on Dean and me. And no lying. We deal with each other in good faith.”

“Sounds fair.”

“And if you keep up the treats, you’ll have to treat Dean too or he’ll feel left out and resentful.”

Gabriel beams. This is going much better than he’d hoped. His plan for getting into Sam’s heart and bed had been forecast to take all year. “Can do. Absolutely. No tricks, more treats, Dean not left out.”

“But Dean _does_ need to be left out of the sex, you realise?”

Gabriel nods. He has, in fact, easily apprehended that much. Then he double-takes. “The sex? So you’ve already decided there’s going to be sex?” He rubs his hands together. “Oh, goody.”

“We’ll see, Gabriel. We’ll see.”

Gabriel is surprised—though not displeased—to find that hearing Sam say that feels even better than playing tricks on the Winchester duo. “How about a nice bath, to relax you, and then you can tell me all about your day?”

“There isn’t a tub here.”

“There will be. Just give me a minute.”

***

When Dean comes back, with a six-pack of beer under one arm and a bag of takeout in the other hand, to find Sam and Gabriel sitting in the now-double bed in matching silk pyjamas laughing at the now-HD television, the look on his face is _priceless_. Seriously, Gabriel’s not sure he could have done better if he’d actually set out to trick the guy.

Can he help it if he feels the urge to rub it in, just a little?

“Hello, new brother-in-law!” he cries ebulliently.

Dean stiffens precipitously.

“Dean? Before you explode, you might wanna take a look at the magical bathtub. And I think Gabe got you some PJs, too. And _Doctor Sexy_ ’s up next on the enormous TV. I’m sure Gabe can keep the food hot.”

“Of course. The meanest little cherub could manage _that_ much on his first day. Go, relax. Would you prefer your bath with harem girls, or without?”

Dean blinks rather stupidly while his mouth falls gradually open.

***

“I think you broke my brother,” Sam complains.

“Aw, poor Sammy. Let me kiss it better—”

“NONE OF THAT!” comes Dean’s roar from the bathroom. “Not until at least the third date! And not in my motel room!”

“Yes, Dean,” they chorus sweetly.

 

***END***


End file.
